


I'll protect you, I promise

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: After, he pulled her to him, letting her rest her head on his chest, fingers resting over his beating heart. He kissed the crown of her head as he continued trying to catch his breath. Sansa smiled softly, placing her own kiss upon his chest, casting him a glance which had him giving her a smile.“Alright sweetling?”She grinned at the endearment, giving him a nod and another kiss to his chest.“Everything is perfect,” she replied as she closed her eyes.Day 6 of 12 Days of Shipping: Bed sharing Trope





	I'll protect you, I promise

“Jon?”

Her voice is soft, timid as though she was scared of waking him. He was already awake anyway and he turned his head to look at his sister as she stood in the doorway.

He frowned slightly as he took her in, noticed the tears on her cheeks and the paleness of her face. She looked terrified and upset, not at all the happy little girl Jon had always known to wander around Winterfell. He sat up slowly.

“Sansa, what is it?”

“I had a nightmare,” she mumbled. “I went to see mother but father was there too. Maybe she was having nightmares too.”

Jon flushed, barely covering his awkward cough at Sansa’s innocent words. She had only seen eight name days, still innocent in the ways of men and women, husbands and wives. Jon was one and ten, and thanks to Theon’s loud boasting felt he knew too much about it.

“Perhaps,” he responded after a moment of her staring at him, waiting for a response.

“Could I…could I stay here?” she asked softly, her right foot curling behind her to rub her left calf. Jon nodded, scooting aside to make room for her and lifting the covers up. She smiled then, closing the door behind her softly and padding along the cold stone floor to the bed.

He jerked when he felt her cold feet touch his leg and she giggled. He couldn’t help but give her a tiny smile in response. He waited for her to get settled into a comfortable position before he spoke.

“What was your nightmare about?”

“I was in a cage,” she whispered. “And there were lions that kept circling it until one of them was suddenly in there with me. It kept tearing at my gown, kept swiping at clawing at me and I screamed and screamed but nobody came. I screamed so much I woke myself up in the end.”

“Oh Sansa,” he mumbled sympathetically. “Do not worry about such dreams.”

“I was so scared, and nobody saved me!”

“I will,” he murmured. “I’ll protect you, I promise.”

***

When Sansa told him of what Ramsay had done, he had felt such a blinding rage. At Ramsay and at himself. He had promised her he would protect her. Even if she had never treated him with the same love as she did her trueborn siblings, even Arya, he would never allow harm to come to her.

When she told him she wouldn’t go back to Ramsay alive, he had reminded her of his promise. He could see in her eyes that she remembered that night all those years ago. But he could also see the distrust in her eyes, her disillusion of heroes so clear in her response.

And Jon had never felt so awful in all his life.

He vowed then, no matter what it took, should they win this battle, he would make sure Sansa believed in heroes again. His sweet sister deserved to see the world as beautiful and magical, deserved to believe there was some good left in the world.

He remembered how he used to call out to be Aemon the Dragonknight when he used to play with Robb. How Sansa would play the maiden sometimes, before she grew old enough to worry about getting her pretty dresses dirty.

He would be her knight again, no matter how long it took her to believe again.

***

He heard her sobbing in her room and hesitated outside her door. Sansa is ashamed of her weakness, he knows though he has told her she has nothing to be ashamed of. He knocked softly and her sobbing stops for a second.

“Sansa, are you alright?”

“Jon?” she sniffed.

“Can I come in?” he asked, hand already braced on the door ready. He heard her soft affirmation and pushed the door open gently.

She was sitting up in her bed, furiously wiping at her eyes as he enters. He grimaced, taking in her tossed sheets and the way she shivers and sweats. A nightmare, he guessed and he can also guess what it had been about.

He moved to the bed without thinking, lying upon it and pushing himself up to sit against the pillows. He held his arms out and she instantly fell against him, burying her head in his chest as he stroked her hair, shushing her gently.

“He can’t hurt you anymore sweetling,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Sansa sniffed, her hand clasping his night shirt so tightly as though she feared he would leave.

“You meant it, didn’t you?” she said, voice thick from her crying. “When you said you would protect me.”

“Of course I did,” he replied.

“Can you…would you stay with me? Like when we were children?”

He knows what the whispers will be in the morning if he stays in her chambers. But he cannot stand the sadness that has engulfed her and he agrees. He told himself it was just about being a decent brother, it was his duty to protect her.

He dares not think it to be for any other reason.

***

Ironically, it is her who comes to comfort him now.

Bran and Sam had told him of his true parentage and Jon had crumbled. He was not Ned Stark’s bastard after all but the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. He was not a Northern child and was a Targaryen, the family that the North despised as much as the Lannisters.

He heard her enter, her soft footsteps approaching his bed. He buried his face into his pillow, wanting to hide his shame from her.

“Jon?” she called softly before he felt her weight on the bed behind him, felt her hesitant hand squeeze his shoulder.

“Did Bran tell you?” he asked. For a moment there is silence.

“Yes,” she replied gently. “It makes no difference to me. You’re still Jon.”

“I am a Targaryen,” he spat, hand curling into his furs. Sansa remained silent as he continued. “The Lords will have me banished from the North, they will never trust me again.”

“They will not banish you,” she said fiercely, her hand gripping his shoulder before it travelled up to his hair, running it soothingly through his curls. “I will not let them. I will protect you, I promise.”

“You can’t protect me,” he snapped, using her own harsh words against her.

“I once believed that nobody can protect me,” she said after a moment. “But you proved me wrong. You’ve protected me, in every way you could. Let me do the same!”

“Are you going to challenge the Lords now?” he returned, glancing over his shoulder at her. She gave him a small smile.

“I will do what I need to do. Jon, please, trust me. We need to trust each other remember.”

For a moment he stared at her over his shoulder until she shifted to lie on her back, opening her arms to him as he had done for her.so long ago. He lay against her breast, letting her stroke his hair until he fell asleep.

***

“There are whispers about you two,” Arya said as they broke their fast. Jon stared at his oatmeal while Sansa turned to her sister in confusion.

“About Jon and I?” she asked, frowning slightly. Arya rolled her eyes.

“You are hardly subtle!” she replied with a barely hidden scoff which she only repeated when Jon and Sansa exchanged perplexed looks. “You are sharing a bed more often than not.”

Sansa and Jon flushed. Jon stared down at the table while Sansa bit her lip.

“It is not…we are not…” she began, cheeks flushing as she and Jon exchanged another embarrassed look. “Are the Lords suggesting we are being improper?”

“In a way,” Arya said with a bored shrug. “I personally agree with them though. I don’t understand why you don’t just get married already and then nobody will care what you do in your chambers!”

“Arya!” Jon finally spoke, horror lacing his tone. Sansa, however, remained silent.

***

“Perhaps we should,” she said later that evening as they lay in Jon’s bed.

Sansa was curled under his furs, lying on her back while Jon was lying on his side, a layer of covers separating them. His eyes were closed already but he opened them halfway to look at her in puzzlement.

“Should what?” he mumbled sleepily.

“Marry.”

That had him awake, his eyes wide.

“Sansa, don’t be stupid.”

“No, hear me out!” she replied, rolling on her side and reaching for him. “You are the only man who I trust not to hurt me. You made me feel like there could be heroes again I would never feel safe marrying anyone else. And you, I can protect you with my name. The Lords cannot keep grumbling if you are my husband.”

“And when there are no children?” he replied. Sansa frowned, a nervous fluttering in her stomach.

“Why would there not be children?”

“Because…we would have to…” he said, flushing and Sansa had to bite back her smile for how endearing his shyness was.

“And?” she prompted. Jon blinked slowly.

“We can’t have a fake marriage Sansa,” he murmured gently. “I am the King in the North and you are the Lady of Winterfell. Our only heir is Arya, who has shown no interest in marrying. So, we would have to have children, do you understand? We would have to lie together.”

She stared at him, one hand rising to his cheek as she pursed her lips as though in deep thought. His grey eyes were reflected in the dim lighting of his chambers as he regarded her.

“Hmm,” she said after a moment. “You’re not the most charming but you’ll do.”

He stared for a moment before his lips curled upwards, a snort escaping him. She giggled as he gave her hip a playful swat but when his palm lingered and their eyes met, she felt her laughter die in her throat. She can tell then that he wants her and, more shockingly, she knows that she wants him.

“See,” she whispered, still holding his gaze. “It could work.”

***

On their wedding night, it was proven just how well it could work.

She sighed contentedly as he rose from between her thighs, lips plump and wet. She licked her lips, stretching her arms out towards him to encourage him to her. He responded eagerly, meeting her mouth with a hard, hot kiss that made her sink down with a moan.

“What was that?” she asked breathlessly when they parted. Jon took a moment to respond, deciding to place kisses along her neck instead. “Jon!”

“I’m not sure of the true name,” he responded between kisses before he glanced up at her, a smirk on his lips. “Did you not enjoy it?”

“Arrogance is not attractive Jon,” she said haughtily.  Jon just grinned again, rearing up for another leisurely kiss. His hands stroked wherever he could reach, pushing her hair from her face, stroking her cheeks and down her neck until he reached her breasts again.

Jon took his time with her, to the point where she asked him if he was ever going to actually put his cock inside her. He had laughed, kissing her once more before granting her request. She moaned at the gentle stretch, frowning in confusion at how painless it was.

She kissed his shoulder as her hands came around to hold him. He smiled down at her, pressing his forehead to hers as he started to move. She bit her lip, lowering her eyes from his intense gaze.

He moved his hand down and she gasped as he found that spot that his tongue had paid such attention to. She bucked up, hands clawing at him as she felt her belly beginning to stir. She heard herself moaning as he continued to move inside of her, could feel Jon panting on her neck and was shocked at how good it felt.

“Its…its not sore…” she gasped in confusion and Jon nodded.

“It shouldn’t hurt,” he replied breathlessly. Sansa mewled as his hips began to push harder into her and he paused.

“Good!” she cried, clutching at him. “It was good, Jon please!”

He groaned, starting his thrusting again. And Sansa wrapped her legs around him, relishing in the choked whimper that fell from his lips, the way he met her lips again in a sloppy kiss as she succumbed to her pleasure.

After, he pulled her to him, letting her rest her head on his chest, fingers resting over his beating heart. He kissed the crown of her head as he continued trying to catch his breath. Sansa smiled softly, placing her own kiss upon his chest, casting him a glance. He gave her a smile.

“Alright sweetling?”

She grinned at the endearment, giving him a nod and another kiss to his chest.

“Everything is perfect,” she replied as she closed her eyes.


End file.
